


Daddy

by fragilelittleteacup



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Choking, Choking Kink, Daddy Kink, Gun Kink, M/M, idek what this is, just take it
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-07
Updated: 2016-09-07
Packaged: 2018-08-13 14:10:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 582
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7979560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fragilelittleteacup/pseuds/fragilelittleteacup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small Mormor drabble.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Daddy

There really was nothing like having a gun put to your head.

The fact that it aroused Moriarty was only further evidence of how twisted he was. They didn’t always do this; sometimes one tied the other up, sometimes they whipped each other, sometimes they were denied the relief and release of orgasm–oh, and the list never, never ended. They could do anything, and they did–Sebastian was sometimes haunted by the image of Moriarty staring up at him, whimpering with false boyish fear,  _daddy, daddy, please daddy, please hurt me._ It was so fucked. Especially when Sebastian grabbed him by that inky black hair, and stuck his cock between those pretty pink lips.

 _Take it, boy,_ he'd say,  _take it._

But Sebastian knew how Moriarty loved the Beretta against his skin- so, tonight, that would take priority over sleeping.

Moriarty loved the cool metal against his temple, the hard fingers gripping his neck so tight that he would be gasping for air, eyes unfocused and mouth agape in an expression of excitement. He loved the empty black of his lover’s eyes, remorseless and deaf to the sound of Moriarty struggling to sip in breaths, every one tighter and more desperate than the last.

When Sebastian let him go he would begin to fall, swarms of purple dots clogging his eyesight as air rushed back into his lungs. He would feel Sebastian’s strong arms catch him. Normally he’d gaze into Sebastian’s face and grin, because they were both sadists, masochists and psychopaths and holy shit they were fucked people- but who cared?

Except this time was different.

This time the purple dots didn’t clear; they darkened instead, and Moriarty had barely a second to register panic before he passed out.

 

 

 

 

It certainly wasn’t the worst thing that had ever resulted from their nocturnal endeavours, but Sebastian had never been aroused by a limp body.

He carried Moriarty back to the bedroom, laid him down, trying to be careful about it. The action, so cautious and sympathetic, was so unfamiliar to him. It was easier to pull the trigger on an unsuspecting target and watch the bullet tear apart their skull than it was to care for someone. Luckily for him, the transition from automatic assassin to part-time human was being made easier by Moriarty’s fetishes for pain, domination and danger; obsessions he allowed only Sebastian fulfil.

Sebastian sat on the edge of the bed and lit up a cigarette. He took a long suck from it, thinking absently about how he’d like his mouth to be preoccupied with another, considerably larger, object.

He considered the unconscious Moriarty silently; his white skin was pale against the dark blue of his suit, and whiter still against the fresh bruises forming on his neck. His hair, usually so carefully styled with gel, was framing his face in an artistic representation of black, spiky chaos. Or whatever. Sebastian thought of vampires. He thought of sex and blood and screams. He thought of 221B and fucking Sherlock Holmes. He thought of whips and guns and  _daddy, daddy, please daddy–_

 

Sebastian took a deep, sharp drag of his cigarette.

_Fuck._

Sebastian had always thought Moriarty looked a bit reptilian in a suit; he longed to see the man in _normal_ clothes, just once. Not as Richard Brook, as James Moriarty. Maybe he could get under that skin. Behind those cruel eyes.

Maybe that was a good idea. He’d have to remember that, next time Jim required punishment.


End file.
